How I Became a Pilot
No one saw me slip into the cockpit.
I dreamed of flying like pilots on TV.
So many buttons — which one should I press?
I picked the green; the plane began to roll.
I pressed again — it raced across the tarmac.
A man ran fast and screamed, “Terrorists! Child?”
The wing struck hard; another man cried out.
A bus rolled out to block the moving plane.
I saw the crash, then fainted in my seat.
Metal shrieked louder than my heartbeat.
I woke to police swarming all around.
They called a child pilot a terrorist.
My name was on the news — same scary word.
That word burned deeply;
I had to ask myself,
What did it mean? I wondered every day.
Not till I grew up did I learn the truth.
That day inspired my dream to be a pilot.
Lady luck alone had saved me from death —
Green button, scream, and question — all began.
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